"I just got my financial-aid check, and since I'm not paying rent now, I should be fine."
"Don't be shy about letting me know if you need help with anything."
Julie could think of a number of non-financial things that she'd like help with. Gee, would you like to tell me why the hell your teenage daughter is glued at the hip to a cardboard brother, has no friends, barely leaves the house, and is a complete social misfit? Huh? But considering she didn't want to disrupt her happy housing arrangement, and the fact that Matt has specifically told her not to bring this up with Erin and Roger, she kept her mouth shut. "I can't think of anything."
"I'm serious, Julie. I don't want you to go without whatever school materials you need. Ask if you need help." She turned to the front door and charged forward. "I'm coming, Roger! You might as well get a head start, since I'm going to beat you anyway!"
Julie laughed and reached for The New York Times. She was a bit surprised that she wasn't more nervous for her first day of classes. Eager, yes, but not the least bit nervous. She was finally where she wanted to be.
**********
Julie glared at the test in front of her. Fine, now she was nervous. She hadn't taken a test since last spring, and she hadn't even thought about anything calculus-related in months, but within three seconds of stepping into her class the professor had informed Julie that she might be able to skip Applied Calculus and transfer into Multivariable Calculus.
My, my! It was hard to think of anything more appealing.Julie surmised that she must have just been radiating derivatives and explicit functions, because she certainly hadn't requested the opportunity to place out. The only reason she'd signed up for calculus was to get her math requirement out of the way as early as possible, because who the hell wanted to be stuck cramming a last-minute math course into her senior year?
Julie crossed her legs and started on the placement test. She was alone in a classroom with a teaching assistant, who was presumably sitting with her to make sure she didn't frantically call some math-geek hotline. Or Matt. But as she moved through the test, it turned out that she didn't really need any help. Yes, a few of the questions were beyond her, but a lot of the material she knew either from her AP high school class or because she just... knew it somehow.
When she was done, the T.A. took her paper. "I'll score this and have the professor call you later today to give you the results. If you've passed, Multivariable Calc meets at the same time, so you'll have an easy transfer."
"That's excellent! I can't wait," Julie said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. She wondered briefly if she could refuse to make the transfer if she passed, but that seemed lame. Even if she wasn't aching to devote her life to vector fields, she couldn't justify taking the easy way out.
Intro to Psych proved to be fun, and Dana was in this class with her. The professor, Dr. Cooley, was wildly enthusiastic about the field and even handed out copies of Freudian slip cartoons along with the lengthy syllabus.
Dr. Cooley erased the white board and addressed the class. "I know this is a big group, and I don't want anyone to get lost. You have all my contact information and my office hours. Use them. I want to hear from you. I want to help you." He turned and set his hands on his hips. "I like teaching, and I like students, and I want to learn from you as much as you want to learn from me."
When class was over, Julie and Dana filed out of the large lecture hall. "I can't stand these huge classes," Dana growled. "These stupid required courses are always so congested. I can't wait until I'm in Evolutionary Psych with, like, five other students."
"You're going to be a psychology major?" Julie asked.
Dana smoothed down her already immaculate straight bangs and wiped non-existent mascara smudges from under her eyes. "I've known for years. Both my parents are shrinks, too. Whitney has a really good program, and Dr. Cooley is highly regarded in the field." She glanced at her watch. "Damn. I was supposed to meet Jamie at the student union for coffee ten minutes ago. I forgot how long this class was. You want to come?"
"I'd love to, but I have to get home, get the car, and pick up Celeste. Rain check?"
"I'll hold you to it." Dana buttoned her blazer with one hand and adjusted her stack of folders with the other. "Call me later."
By the time Julie made it home, changed clothes, and packed Flat Finn into the car, she was running a few minutes late to get Celeste. She sat at a stoplight and swore. The gas tank was nearly empty. Dangerously empty. The only gas station she knew was in the opposite direction, and it seemed to make more sense to go there than to hope she passed one before she totally ran out. Pulling an illegal U-turn seemed a good way to christen herself into the world of Boston driving. She gunned the car down the road, swearing at every stop light, and peeled into the gas station.
As Julie jabbed the nozzle into the gas tank, she simultaneously sulked and panicked: it was the first day of her official Celeste duties, and she was already screwing up. Celeste didn't seem like the typical kid who wouldn't give a damn if Julie were late. Not that Julie could guess how Celeste would react to a shift in schedule, but she wasn't dying to find out. She tapped her foot anxiously as the numbers rolled over in the pump. Had she selected the slowest possible pump in the entire country? Obviously. Come on, come on, she pleaded silently. The gas seemed to be trickling into the car, microscopic drop by microscopic drop. Who leaves the goddamn gas tank empty? After what felt like an endless wait, she had managed to drip a few gallons of gas into the car.
She got back into the car and fumbled with the keys. Why was she so shaky? Celeste would be fine. There wasn't anything to be done about being late, and no one to blame. Except Flat Finn.